Dare to Love (13 page)

‘Oh God, you made me jump.’

‘Sorry.’ He slides onto the picnic table next to me.

For a moment I lose awareness of the game. He’s wearing jeans, a grey zipped up hooded top and leather sandals. He’s more solid than my memory of him.

His arm and thigh are touching mine. I feel underdressed next to him in my short denim skirt and red vest. We watch the game in silence for a while but I’m finding it hard to concentrate.

Keeping his eyes on the game he says almost inaudibly, ‘I thought you weren’t going to phone.’

I’m not sure if he’s just voicing his thoughts. It’s not a question, doesn’t need an answer.

‘I would have been so disappointed.’

I want to say something but I don’t trust my voice. He’s stirring up all those feelings from last night and I can’t blame it on the rum and coke or the charged energy of the club. What would he say if I told him I slept with his smell, thought about him all day, whispered his name as I climaxed last night?

He strokes my arm, the one next to his. Small furtive strokes. He could just as well be strumming a double base inside me. Each touch a note vibrating from by stomach to my fingers, toes, tip of my nose, top of my head.

It’s getting too dark to play; the players are winding up, folding up the net, reclaiming their T-shirts. The spectators drift off. There’s just us and a few stragglers in the sea, riding the big waves in the dark.

‘Can I get you a drink?’

I look back at the kiosk. ‘It’s closed,’ I point out.

‘I have a bottle of Hennessey in my car.’

‘A bit strong for me but don’t let me stop you.’

I watch him walk away, strong, purposeful, unhurried steps. I’m missing his energy already. I turn down the volume on the voice of reason. I’m not doing anything wrong, I remind it. I’m having a chat with a young man in a public place on holiday. There’s no harm in that.

He returns with a medium flask of Hennessey, a small bottle of coke and two plastic cups, one of which contains ice cubes.

‘My, you’re prepared.’

‘You sure you won’t change your mind?’

‘No thanks.’ I’m not sure what he’s put in the drinks, besides, I need to keep a clear head.

He sets everything out on the table, pours a couple of fingers of brandy, tops it up with coke, drops in a few cubes of ice, sips it and nods approvingly. He’s got long fingers, a steady hand and knows exactly how he likes his drink. He slides right up close to me again and puts the cup to my lips.

‘A little sip?’

I shake my head.

‘Pleeeease. I feel so bad drinking by myself.’

Anyone else and I would have stuck to my guns, but there’s something about the way he says please, like he’s pleading and teasing at the same time. There’s a corner of my soul that wants to please him. I take a sip and swallow slowly. He feeds me brandy and coke as we exchange the “getting to know you stuff”. We start with birthdays. He quickly volunteers that he’s thirty six. I gulp. I know I should stop now, get up and walk away, thank him for his brandy and wish him a good life. I tell him it’s rude to ask a woman her age. He laughs and asks if I still believe in that old fashioned stuff. I don’t answer that to me it’s not old fashioned, to me it’s of my time. I was hoping he’d be at least forty. It’s so hard to judge men’s age when they shave their heads. He tells me about his siblings, he’s number three of four, admires his sister in the States, a lawyer. He’s been a civil engineer for six years. I’d assumed he’s Bajan till he says he got his degree from the university at home.

‘Where’s home?’

‘Guyana.’ He’s a little indignant that I think his accent’s Bajan. I plead ignorance and apologise.

‘What about you Joseee? What do you do?’

‘I teach,’ I lie.

‘Big ones? Little ones?’

‘Big ones.’

‘Children?’

‘Three boys.’

‘Strong woman.’ He looks at me like I’ve just won a prize. ‘How old?’

I bring all their ages down by five years. He doesn’t seem surprised that I have a thirteen year old, thinks he may have something in common with his son.

‘Husband?’

‘Wife?’

‘No, girlfriend, very casual.’

‘Age?’

‘Twenty.’ I gasp. I have children older than her.

‘Husband?’

‘Yes.’

He feeds me another sip of brandy. As he pulls the cup back, he leans forward and very softly touch my lips with his. An electrical current passes between us. I know it sounds clichéd but I guess the clichés have to come from somewhere and right now there’s electricity between us. Not full hair-raising power, but enough to churn up the remnants of my lunch.

He lets them rest there, his lips soft against mine. He hovers, barely touching me while tremors go off inside my body. Every nerve ending that’s been dulled by the events of the last six months is now alive, glowing, flashing like Christmas tree lights. I catch my breath as he slowly pushes his tongue inside my mouth to find mine. I hesitate for a second to hear the voice say ‘What are you doing?’ before pressing the mute button and allowing his tongue to snake all over mine. I can’t think, don’t want to think. I feel his hand moving up my thigh, stroking his way to my mound. I reach out and stop him suddenly, embarrassed that he’ll know how hot and wet I am for him.

I pull back from him, take one of his biceps in both my hands, squeeze it. He’s solid, firm, defined. I slowly unzip his top, press my hand against his bare chest, take in his tightly curled hair, tight taut skin. He takes my hand, moves it slowly down his belly to his crotch. He spreads his legs wide. I run my hand over his jeans and feel him hard against my fingers. His breath come in little gasps. I lean forward and kiss him as I unzip his jeans. He’s holding me tight with one hand and stroking my shoulders with the other.

‘Oh baby,’ he groans.

I’m about to put my hand inside his underpants, take his throbbing hardness into my hand, know its size, its shape, when I come to my senses. The voice is on full volume. ‘What are you doing with this stranger calling you ‘baby’? Richard would never call you ‘baby’. You’re too old to be anybody’s baby. What are you thinking of? That’s the problem, Josi – you’re not thinking!’

I pull right away from him. Glimpse his surprise as he opens his eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, looking at the sand.

‘Sorry for what? You enjoying it right?’

‘I shouldn’t be.’

‘Come on baby. There’s nothing wrong with this.’

‘I don’t even know you,’ I protest.

‘Ask me anything. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.’

‘I’m sorry. I have to go.’

‘You have a curfew?’ he asks mockingly. ‘It’s only nine o’clock.’

‘No curfew, but its dark now and I’m walking back.’

‘Don’t worry, I give you a ride.’

‘No. I like to walk.’

‘I can’t let you do that, and you a visitor and all.’ He’s still mocking me.

‘No really, I like to walk. I’ll be fine.’

He reaches for my shoulder and pulls me close again. ‘So when I going to see you again?’

I can’t believe he wants to see me again after that fiasco.

‘I train on the beach in the mornings,’ I offer.

‘What time?’

‘About seven, I get here about seven.’

‘OK, I see you tomorrow at seven. Now I taking you home.’

‘No really, I’ll be fine. I want to walk.’ He sees he’s fighting a losing battle. We go off in opposite directions, him to the car park, me to Enterprise Drive and the walk home. He doesn’t know it isn’t him I don’t trust. Something is rampaging through my body. I don’t trust myself in an enclosed place with him.

‘I was just about to send out a search party,’ Celia jokes when I get back.

I slump onto the settee. ‘I met that guy from last night down by the beach.’

‘And?’ she looks at me over her glasses.

‘I’m in a dangerous place, girl.’

‘You know I’m not one to judge but just remember there’s AIDS on the island.’

‘I know. There’s AIDS everywhere. That’s part of what marriage is supposed to protect you from.’

Grant

I can’t remember the last time I watch the phone so much for a call. All
day I have it either in my hand or in my pocket. Every time it ring my heart jump, but I have to look cool. I don’t want Mel to suspect anything.

She sleeping when I get home last night. She stir a little when I shower but she can sleep heavy. She and Darron the same. I slide in beside her, lay on my back and play the whole night in my head. Sometime I give my number to a woman. She might call or not. Some of them just take the number to get rid of you. I can usually tell which ones not going to call. Most times I just trying my luck, see if I get lucky. Tonight different. I really want to see her again. Joseee. I should’ve asked her if it short for Josephine, but she didn’t want to talk. I can still feel her moving. Although I wash off her scent, I still smell her in my head, heavy, deep, sexy. I can’t sleep. I’m stiff as a rod. I turn over and try to wake up Mel. I need some relief. She roll over and turn her back to me. I go in the bathroom, put my shirt with her smell back on and relieve myself.

By the time I wake up, Mel and Darron in the kitchen laughing.

‘How was The Plantation last night?’ Mel ask as I come to join them.

‘The same.’ I’m blank. Don’t want to give anything away.

‘Still full of old people?’ They both laugh.

‘You two think anybody over thirty old.’

‘Can I watch you play football today Daddy?’

‘You finish you homework?’

‘No but I have all day to finish it.’

‘I tell you already, if you want to come with me, make sure you do everything!’

He drop his disappointed eyes to his empty cereal bowl. The truth is, I don’t want him with me today because I might get a call from Joseee and I would want to go straight from football. That way I could tell Mel that I go for a drink with the boys and forget the time.

‘You want some egg and toast?’ Mel ask me, trying to bring back to life the atmosphere I just kill by saying no to Darron.

‘Yes baby.’ Trying to keep her sweet.

All through the game I can’t concentrate. Every five minutes I stop to check my phone. We lose the game 3-2 and some of them blame me for being distracted.

‘I hope she worth it,’ a very angry captain say as we leave the pitch.

‘Is a business call I’m expecting. You know how bad things are right now.’

‘Just make sure you on better form next week or your place might be in danger.’

I go home and try to settle. I play a computer game with Darron to make it up to him. He beat me badly so he’s happy. I do a bit of surfing, wash the car, help Mel with the dinner. When I get a call I keep it short. I don’t want to miss
her
call.

Mel just sharing out the dinner when the phone ring. I don’t recognise the number. I answer straight away.

‘Hello?’

‘Hi, it’s me, Josi, do you remember me? We met last night.’ Like I could forget.

I put on my business voice because I tell Mel I’m expecting call from a woman who wants to build a house. Tell her I give her my card last night. Say she will try and ring me as soon as possible. Tell her nothing might happen, but if I get a call it could be a small contract.

‘Yes, I remember. Where are you now?’

‘On my way to the beach.’ There’s over fifty beaches in Barbados. I didn’t even find out where she staying. If she say Bathsheba I’m fucked.

‘Which one?’

‘Miami – some people call it Enterprise. Do you know it?’

I silently thank God.

‘Yes. How long till you get there?’

She walking. Will be there in ten minutes.

‘I’ll come now,’ I say, ignoring Mel’s raised eyebrow. She pointing at the food she just put on the table.

I click off the phone. Give her a hug. ‘Sorry babes, there might be a deal in this. I’ll put it in the microwave when I get back.’

‘When?’

‘Shouldn’t be too long.’

She not happy but she can’t complain. We need the money.

I grab my briefcase, a bottle of coke from the fridge and my sunglasses.

‘You going like that?’ Mel surprised I’m still in my jeans.

‘Is an informal meeting. Is Sunday evening. See you later babes. Wish me luck.’

My heart beating fast. Just hearing her voice make me start getting stiff. I don’t have much money to buy drinks. I carry ice in a flask in the car, and I have a bottle of Hennessey in the glove compartment. I run back and pick up a couple of plastic cups from the kitchen before Mel notice. I put on some aftershave, the one I keep in the car.

Is only a ten minute drive from my house to Miami Beach but the journey feel slow; like the car driving through thick tar. When I get to the car park I put my briefcase in the trunk, sling my sunglasses round my neck and go to look for her.